[Mr. Sponge’s Sporting Tour by R. S. Surtees]@TWC D-Link bookMr. Sponge’s Sporting Tour CHAPTER XXII 10/12
Meet at the Court,' mumbled his lordship--'meet at the Court--ha--he--ha--hum--no;--got no foxes.' 'Plenty of foxes, I assure you, my lord!' exclaimed Jawleyford.
'Plenty of foxes!' repeated he. 'We never find them, then, somehow,' observed his lordship, drily; 'at least, none but those three-legged beggars in the laurels at the back of the stables.' 'Ah! that will be the fault of the hounds,' replied Jawleyford; 'they don't take sufficient time to draw--run through the covers too quickly.' 'Fault of the hounds be hanged!' exclaimed Jack, who was the champion of the pack generally.
'There's not a more patient, painstaking pack in the world than his lordship's.' 'Ah--well--ah--never mind that,' replied his lordship, 'Jaw and you can settle that point over your wine to-morrow; meanwhile, if your friend Mr. What's-his-name here, 'll get his horse,' continued his lordship, addressing himself to Jawleyford, but looking at Sponge, who was still on the piebald, 'we'll throw off.' 'Thank you, my lord,' replied Sponge; 'but I'll mount at the cover side. Sponge not being inclined to let the Flat Hat Hunt field see the difference of opinion that occasionally existed between the gallant brown and himself. 'As you please,' rejoined his lordship, 'as you please,' jerking his head at Frostyface, who forthwith gave the office to the hounds; whereupon all was commotion.
Away the cavalcade went, and in less than five minutes the late bustling village resumed its wonted quiet; the old man on sticks, two crones gossiping at a door, a rag-or-anything-else-gatherer going about with a donkey, and a parcel of dirty children tumbling about on the green, being all that remained on the scene.
All the able-bodied men had followed the hounds.
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